When he reached a clearing, he saw Draka-ak the Younger’s head on a pike.
THE CRUEL LIPS WERE twisted in an eternal, silent grimace. The eyes were wide. Tronta-ak, the second-in-command, did not go any closer. The Lasta-ah believed that the last thing a person saw was recorded on their eyes. Tronta-ak did not want to see the last thing Draka-ak the Younger had seen. He hoped never to come into contact with whatever or whoever it was.
Tronta-ak turned to his own second-in-command, who, he realized suddenly, was the second-in-command of this great army. Without a doubt, Tronta-ak had been thrust into a position of complete authority. Of this army, if not the entire city of Lasta-ah.
He tried to speak, but found his voice was lost somewhere in the back of his throat. He coughed, looked up at the sky, then in a firm voice, said, “Take the head down.”
“What should we do with it, Commander?”
Commander.
“We will give Draka-ak a proper burial.” He pointed to a man in front of him. “Run to Draka-ak’s tent. I assume we will find the rest of him there.”
The man turned on his heel and ran, happy to be away from the grisly sight.
“Who is the commander here now?” a commanding voice rang out.
“I am,” Tronta-ak said without thought. Then he thought, Who is questioning me? I am the Commander! Tronta-ak spun about and saw a tall, good-looking young man who could have been any of his own soldiers. “Who are you?”
“I am Harta-ak of Danta-ah. Before that, I was Harta-ak of Lasta-ah.”
Tronta-ak’s eyes narrowed. “I knew your father.”
Harta-ak ignored him. “Manta-ak has sent me with a message.”
Tronta-ak had not had time to take his morning piss, let alone think of what to do with the ever-growing problem that was Monta-ak of Winten-ah.
“What is it?” Tronta-ak asked. He tried to sound authoritative, but didn’t manage to completely keep the tremble out of his voice.
Harta-ak wished he had the performance skills of Untrin-ak, but did his best.
“Manta-ak walked like a ghost through ten hundred men in the silence of the night. He could have killed all of you, but did not. He killed Draka-ak the Younger, just as he killed Draka-ak the Elder. When the sun sets tonight, if you are still camped here, he will destroy the rest of you just as surely as he removed Draka-ak’s head from his shoulders.”
“One man? How can one man kill all of us?”
“How did one man walk right past guards meant to stop him into the center of your camp and kill your leader? Manta-ak has had three years to train an army of men just like himself. Do you want to face an entire army of men who can do that?” Harta-ak hooked his thumb over his shoulder at Draka-ak’s distended face.
Harta-ak turned as though he was going to walk back to the river. He stopped as though he remembered something. “It does not matter to me, either way. You will go home and live your lives, or the birds will pick at your eyeballs. That is up to you. But, I will make an offer. If any of your men do not want to march the many months back to Lasta-ah, I will give them refuge in Danta-ah. We are free men, not subjected to the whims of a madman. We are building a beautiful village right here. Klipta-ak is here and so are his men. If you want to join us, come to the river before the sun sets. After that, I cannot vouch for the safety of any of you.”
Harta-ak looked left, then right, then behind him, as if he couldn’t be sure but what Manta-ak and his army might be coming at any moment. He smiled at Tronta-ak, then hurried down the path to the river.
Two of his Danta-ah warriors pulled him across in their small boat.
Laying in the bottom of the boat was Alex Hawk, known and feared by the Lasta-ah as Manta-ak.
“You made me sound so much scarier than I am,” Alex said.
“That was my job. I’ve been a salesman all my life. Today, I sold them on the idea that they do not want to die at the hands of the fearsome Manta-ak.”
When they reached the other side, Alex was swarmed by a massive dog and a tiny girl. The tiny one might have been the most ferocious in being reunited with Alex.
“Don’t leave, Dadda.”
Her words tore at Alex. Amy had been just a year older when he left her. Alex held Sanda-eh close against him and said, “I’ll try. I promise I’ll try.”
They climbed away from the bank until they could not be seen from the other side, sat, and waited. Late in the afternoon, a group of men gathered on the bank on the north side of the river.
Alex pointed and said, “I think you’ve got some volunteers. Good for you.” He laid a hand on both Versa-eh and Harta-ak’s shoulders. “Thank you again. You keep giving me debts I can never repay.” He swung Sanda-eh up onto his horse. He jumped up, put an arm around his daughter and said, “I’m going home. I’m tired.”
Chapter Thirty-ThreeReturn to Prata-ah
Life continued as normal in Winten-ah. No more massive armies attacked. No more plagues of spiders descended.
But pregnancy, the very beginning of human life, continued to spell certain death.
Alex Hawk knew that this had to change, or it would be then end of humanity. No matter how much thought he put into it, he was just as helpless against the widespread curse as he had been when it had claimed Senta-eh.
Early in the spring after Sanda-eh turned four, Lanta-eh opened the door to Alex’s cabin at first light. The people of Winten-ah—raised in caves with no doors at all—would never understand the concept of privacy or knocking.
“Gunta, Manta-ak. It is time.”
Lanta-eh, though burdened with the title
